The Silence Remains
by Dirge Niscar
Summary: Hogwarts - Year Six. Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts, but the past year has changed him. Will the prophecy and Sirius' death consume him, or will a little red-headed girl help him see the light?
1. The Gift

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This Fiction takes into effect some serious issues the youth of the 1990's dealt with, and it may be disturbing to some readers. Suicide is a major figure in the beginning of the story, and murder is a major event near the end. IF you have a problem with primary cast members dying, find another fic. You have been warned.  
  
I'm not a perfect person  
  
There's many things I wish I didn't do  
  
But I continue learning  
  
I never meant to do those things to you  
  
And so I have to say before I go  
  
That I just want you to know  
  
I found a reason for me  
  
To change who I used to be  
  
A reason to start over new  
  
And the reason is you...  
  
-The Reason by Hoobastank -  
  
Chapter One - The Gift  
  
The nights were that much lonelier at Number 4, Privet Drive.  
  
A young man lay in his bead, his black hair looking as though he'd just finished running through the streets in a high wind, his green eyes staring at the ceiling, unblinking. His bangs fell back as he shifted a bit on the comforter, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar. His nose twitched a bit as he watched a spider walk across the smooth-painted ceiling.  
  
In the corner, a snowy owl hooted softly. The young man's head turned to her, seeing her still within her cage. He lifted his legs and threw them over the side of the bed, and walked over to her, his hands coming up to undo the clasp that kept her golden cage locked.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hedwig, I let my mind wander."  
  
The owl looked at him, then fluttered to his shoulder. Her large yellow eyes stared into his, as though trying to perceive his thoughts. Then, as though she had seen them, she nuzzled his ear, then turned about and lifted into the air and out the open window of the young man's room.  
  
The young man sighed, and moved back to his bed, this time sitting upon the side. The clock on his beside table read 11:59. A grin flitted across his face, but only for a moment, before the numbers fell to reveal 12:00.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter."  
  
He leaned forward and reached under the bed, drawing forth a thin wooden rod. It looked a bit worn, as though someone had been using it for baton practice quite often. He swished it through the air, and sparks flew from the end of it, illuminating the room with golden light. The young man sighed once more, and placed the rod back under the bed.  
  
"One more year."  
  
He lay back in his bed again, this time sliding his hands behind his head, and once more tracked the progress of the spider on the ceiling.  
  
"One more year..."  
  
*~*~*  
  
The Dursleys no longer considered their houseguest of a nephew a burden, and Harry was left well enough alone. Ignored by Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon alike after they had received the talking to from Moody at King's Crossing, Harry had been allowed his own space, which he used to trek from one room to another inside the Dursley's house, or to go outside. There was always a space for him at the table, and there was always enough food, but they did not speak with him for the most part. Dudley himself had only muttered "geroff" the once when Harry had stepped on his foot, which was quite an accomplishment in itself, given Dudley's girth.  
  
Harry spent most of his time outdoors, tending the garden his aunt had long ago given up on. It was soothing, and it kept his mind from wandering back to that night deep underneath London. It was looking rather well, the garden, as Harry had torn up everything and started from scratch, creating lines of both flowers and vegetables. Tulips sat alongside radishes, chamomile beside the carrots. He took the ripened carrots and radishes to his aunt, who thanked him without looking at him, and usually placed them to the side. Harry did notice that the Dursley's ate a lot more stew than was usual, and always with the same kind of vegetables he grew in the garden.  
  
Hedwig had not returned in two days, and Harry was beginning to worry, until she landed in the middle of some weeds he was pulling up from the ground, a wrapped package tied to her ankle. She hooted and looked up. Harry followed her gaze to see five additional owls, including Pigwidgeon and Errol both carrying a rather large package. He freed the owls from their burdens and offered them some of the worms he had found in the dirt as he was tending the garden. They all ate, and nipped his fingers affectionately.  
  
Harry grabbed the packages he had been sent and ran inside. Ignoring the shouts of his aunt and uncle to watch the mud on the carpet, he stomped up the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. He opened the door in time to see the owls flying in through the window and finding perches. Errol landed on the floor, laying there a bit before standing back upon his claws and hooting at Harry. Pigwidgeon and Hedwig lit on top of Harry's dresser, watching him intently. The other three owls found the end of the bed and sat, as only owls can, for a rest.  
  
He opened the package brought to him by Errol and Pigwidgeon, finding the usual assortment of pies and a birthday cake from Mrs. Weasley. There was another package within, and Harry opened it to reveal parchment. His brow furrowed as he read the paper - Fred and George had given Harry a quarter partnership in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which was doing quite well. They had enclosed a box of sweets, and Harry lay them to the side carefully. He had already seen the adverse effects of the twin's confections, and they were enough to give Harry a sense of caution.  
  
His second package, judging by the writing, was from Hermione, and he opened this one with a bit of caution, as well. The homework planner she'd gotten him last Christmas still spouted off phrases from time to time, even while closed, and the last thing he wanted was another one of those. This one was a book - Hogwarts, A History - and Harry smiled. For the past five years Hermione had complained about his and Ron's lack of interest in reading about their school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a rather nice copy, bound in leather with silver edges on the pages. He opened the cover and read her note to him:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
As much as I wish I could be there with you after what happened this year, Dumbledore has told us we must remain within Headquarters. I thought I might be able to cheer you up with this book - it mentions us in it now! Wizarding books, especially history books, update themselves every five years. We are mentioned in the very end, including our adventures with the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, and you are mentioned especially with the Triwizard Tournament as the final winner, along with Cedric.  
  
I promise that we will see you soon. Dumbledore has all but lost an ear to Mrs. Weasley begging him to let you come stay with us for the summer, and he has agreed, but not yet set a date. I do believe it will be soon.  
  
We miss you around here.  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry set the book on the bed, and opened the next package, obviously from Ron from the scrawl atop the box. It wasn't wrapped too tightly, but there was so much Spell-o-Tape on the paper that Harry was sure no Muggle would have been able to open it. There was a gold rectangular box, in his hand after the paper was removed. Harry removed the top and brushed aside the tissue paper. Inside the paper was a small knife. He recognized the handle instantly - it was the same his godfather had given him, only Ron had affixed a new blade. Harry lifted it from the box, and held it in his hand, feeling the weight of the steel.  
  
His thoughts flew back to a few weeks ago, when he had been beneath the streets of London in the Ministry of Magic, and had tried to use this very same knife to enter one of the doors in the Department of Mysteries. The blade had melted, and Harry had pocketed the handle. He did not remember throwing it aside when they got back, but he supposed he had, as Ron had gotten the handle. He set the box to the side, and looked at the blade again. It was smooth, and obviously sharp. He closed his eyes, and let the tears fall as he remembered his godfather's death, the way the jet of light had entered his chest and sent him backwards into the veil. His chest shuddered with a caught sob - he didn't want the Dursley's to know he was crying - and he set the knife back into the box. He continued with opening his presents, trying to keep his mind from his thoughts when he held Ron's gift.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The next morning brought a shock to Harry as he was awakened by a tapping on his bedroom door.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Get up, Harry, it's time for breakfast."  
  
Harry sat in his bed stunned. For the first time he could remember, his aunt was speaking to him in a civil tone. He hopped out of bed, still in his bedclothes, and opened the door to see his aunt standing there. Her face no longer looked as though she had just bitten into a fresh lemon, but actually seemed motherly. Harry took a step back.  
  
"I'll be down in a bit."  
  
Aunt Petunia nodded, and walked away towards the staircase. Harry dressed quickly in jeans and a shirt, and trotted down the stairs to see his uncle and cousin sitting at the table, as well as a man Harry had not seen since he was 12. That time, Dobby the house elf had dropped a large cake onto Mr. Mason's wife's head, and the resulting owls from the Ministry of Magic had sent both Mr. and Mrs. Mason into conniption fits. Harry paused in the doorway of the kitchen and looked between the four people already within.  
  
Uncle Vernon looked up from his conversation with Mr. Mason and grinned. "Come bo-...Come, Harry, have a seat. Mr. Mason would like to have a few words with you."  
  
Harry gripped the doorframe a bit harder. The last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation with Uncle Vernon's boss. He walked to his usual place at the table. Before him, for the first time, was one of the plates Aunt Petunia usually reserved for only her son, her husband, and herself. Harry's brow quirked a bit.  
  
Mr. Mason straightened his tie a bit and cleared his throat. "Well, Harry, your uncle tells me you will be turning seventeen next year. Is this true?"  
  
Harry looked up from his plate towards the man who rivaled Uncle Vernon in girth. "Yes, sir."  
  
Uncle Vernon's eyes twitched a bit. He hadn't expected Harry to answer so respectfully. He straightened his own tie as Mr. Mason continued.  
  
"Well, you're going to need something to do once you leave school. Your uncle tells me you've been attending St. Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal boys, and that you've been making some progress there. I've been employing men from that institution for many years now, as they make good, honest workers. I was wondering if you've given any thought to what you're going to do once you leave St. Brutus?"  
  
Harry had made no expression whatsoever during this spiel. His aunt turned from the stove, sizzling pan in her hand, and watched Harry. Dudley stopped shoveling food into his mouth to do the same.  
  
Harry simply grinned. "Well, I have given a bit of thought to it..."  
  
Mr. Mason interrupted him, "Well that's good, that's good. It's nice to know that younger people give thought to their futures." Mr. Mason shifted a bit in his seat. "I was wondering, Harry, if you would like to come work for me at Grummings? It would be a great place to work."  
  
The Boy Who Lived felt the grin on his face grow a bit wider. The Sorting Hat hadn't questioned him about Slytherin for nothing. He sat back in his chair. "Well, yes, I have thought about working at Grummings, Mr. Mason."  
  
The chubby man's face brightened up, as it had fallen seeing the grin on Harry's face. "Well! that's good news! We could begin you to work as soon as you leave St. Brutus'..."  
  
Harry's face broke out into a smile. "Yes, yes, well, I did not say I would actually work there, now did I?"  
  
A collective gasp was heard from Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. Harry could only see Uncle Vernon's eyes, and they widened, with anger or fear Harry could not discern. Mr. Mason seemed not to notice.  
  
"Yes, well, I'm sure we can change your mind. After all, St. Brutus usually assigns you a place to work after you leave the school..."  
  
Harry's laughter could no longer be contained, and laughter escaped from his lips, much to the dismay of Uncle Vernon. Mr. Mason looked slightly put off.  
  
"Do you honestly think I want to work for you? Much less for my uncle, who treats me as though I were a dog's droppings, fit to be scraped from his shoe? I would rather be attacked by a hippogriff!"  
  
Harry stood as Mr. Mason watched him. Uncle Vernon began spluttering. "Now, b-Harry, it's not really that bad-"  
  
Harry's smile was gone, along with the laughter. He could feel the anger rising in him as it did when he had blown up his great-aunt when he was 13. "It truly is, Vernon. For 16 years, you've treated me as dirt. Even with all I've done for you, work around the house, tending the garden to bring the cost of the grocer trips down, staying out of your way, you've treated me as though I were less than dirt. I refuse to work for any company that you've been part of. I have my own plans for my future. And they do not concern Grumming's Drills. Take your offer and stuff it."  
  
Harry turned, not looking at any of his family, nor Mr. Mason (whom he could hear muttering "What's a hippogriff?"), and walked out of the kitchen swiftly. His footsteps took him up the stairs and back to his room, where Hedwig was sitting upon his bed, his phoenix-feather wand in hand. Harry stopped moving. His impulse was to grab his wand and storm back downstairs to hex his family into oblivion.  
  
Laying on the bed, however, was a note.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Author notes: I suppose thanks are in order - Batling - My little sister, and my first BetaReader. She's the one who really encouraged me to put this here in the first place, so thank her. Also thanks for the ideas on revision.  
  
Spizzy - For reading this first chapter and threatening my life if I didn't post it on here.  
  
PaxilPixie - for reading it and giving support.  
  
From here, ladies and gentlemen, it gets bumpy. I hope you have your tray tables locked and your seat backs in their upright and locked position. We've got around 40 chapters in this planned, I have no job, and lots of time to do nothing but write.  
  
Warp One, Engage.  
  
-Dirge Niscar- 


	2. Fighting on the Home Front

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This Fiction takes into effect some serious issues the youth of the 1990's dealt with, and it may be disturbing to some readers. Suicide is a major figure in the beginning of the story, and murder is a major event near the end. IF you have a problem with primary cast members dying, find another fic. You have been warned.  
  
I'm witholding my anger Though I'd like to be the strangler Of this punk-ass little pussy's puny neck It's my right to insist That he acknowledge my existence But he just displays complete lack of respect...  
  
-Bully by Eminem-  
  
Chapter 2 - Fighting on the HomeFront  
  
Harry took the wand from Hedwig's claw, but it slipped from his fingers and onto the floor as he saw the letter up close. Surprise at seeing the writing on the letter caused his anger at his uncle's family to drain away, making way for another wave of sadness that washed over him, sending him to his knees.  
  
He reached out and picked up the letter, still staring at his late godfather's handwriting. Surely this was a trick. Voldemort playing games with his head. He dropped the letter onto the floor, and grasped his wand as his uncle burst into his room.  
  
"What in blazes-"  
  
"FINITE INCANTATEM!"  
  
The blue mist sparkled as it filled the room, and the jet of blue light hit the letter, sending it into the air, where it spun for a moment before fluttering back onto the bed. Harry scrutinized it. Nothing had happened. Then he turned, remembering his uncle had come in.  
  
Uncle Vernon merely stood there as the mist faded, his face amazed at the effect the simple words had created. He blinked, then shook his head, and suddenly his face was redder than ever.  
  
"I TOLD YOU NONE OF THAT NONSENSE IN THIS HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT!"  
  
Harry merely stood there, letting his uncle's words wash over him. His aunt had appeared in the doorway in time to see the last bit of the mist fade away, and her face also became quite red.  
  
Harry heard a fluttering behind him, and turned to see an owl with a very official-looking letter land upon his bed and proffer it's claw. He walked over to the bed and took the letter. Uncle Vernon was fuming and laughing at the same time.  
  
"Haha, boy! That's your group of freaks! They're to come and arrest you! Then I won't have to worry anymore, you'll be with the denty-molars!"  
  
Uncle Vernon did a bit of a dance where he was standing as Harry watched, opening the letter. He drew forth a bit of parchment and read :  
  
Dear Mr. Potter;  
  
Our alarms have shown that you performed an incantation ending charm at 11:23AM this morning. This is against the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic. Ministry officials will arrive at your house within the hour to take you to the ministry, where you will be questioned for this action and placed under arrest. Your wand will be confiscated upon their arrival. Use your remaining time to pack your belongings.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic  
  
The Ministry owl fluttered out the window as Harry finished reading. He turned to his uncle, bringing his wand up to point at the fat man.  
  
"Get out of my room, you fat tub of shit."  
  
Uncle Vernon's face went white as parchment, and Aunt Petunia looked as though she were going to faint. The wand didn't waver, and the rage in Harry's eyes was quite evident. Not taking his eyes off the boy, Vernon walked to the doorway.  
  
"There better not be a trace of you left when they come for you."  
  
Harry grinned. "Don't worry."  
  
Vernon closed the door, and Harry turned back to the letter with Sirius' handwriting. He picked it up again and placed it in his pocket. He pulled the floorboard up and took out his books and belongings, and opened his trunk and placed them inside. He opened his closet and drew forth his clothes and robes, and placed them into the trunk as well. His wand he left on bed.  
  
"Hedwig, I need you to take this letter to Dumbledore. I'm sure he knows what's happened, but it will give him an idea of what they said this time."  
  
Harry tied the letter from the Ministry to his owl's foot, and she lit out the window. Harry watched her for a moment, then turned back to the room. Everything he owned was inside his trunk. He sat on the bed, and drew out the letter from Sirius. Breathing deeply, he opened it and took out the parchment.  
  
Dear Harry;  
  
If you are reading this, it means I am gone.  
  
I hope that even though you receive this, you are alright. We only knew each other for a short time, but the time I spent with you was worth the 13 years I spent locked in Azkaban, and the time I spent locked within my mother's house.  
  
This has come to you as my final Will and Testament. It is short, but legal, as Dumbledore and Moody are watching me write this, and will affirm their own witness to this.  
  
All that I have, Harry, now belongs to you. My account at Gringott's, my mother's House, and any other items that came into my posession with my mother's death, all are yours. I know this is small countenance, given what you are going through now, but it is all I have to give you.  
  
I also wish to give you the name of your Godmother, whom Dumbledore decided to keep silent until something happened to me.  
  
It is ironic, however, that the woman you consider to be your mother-figure is also your Godmother. Molly Weasley was asked to be such at your birth, as she had been there to bring you into the world, and James and Lilly would have nobody else to take to the task. That is why she treats you as her own son - for in a way, you already were.  
  
Have a good life, Harry. I wish I could be there to watch you finish school, and to go into life. Don't ever forget the times we had together.  
  
-Sirius  
  
-Witnessed by Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore and Alastor Z. Moody  
  
Harry heard a knock at the front door as he finished reading, and he folded the letter up and placed it back into his pocket. A moment later, there was a knock at the door, and two men in wizard robes followed Uncle Vernon into the room, looking around.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged. "He...he's right here." He guestured to Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes widened as well. "Uncle Vernon, guesture them to another part of the room, quickly! They're not from the Ministry!"  
  
Vernon's brow furrowed, and he pointed to another corner of the room. "I mean over there."  
  
Harry drew his wand as he saw the two ministry impostors draw their own. He motioned for Vernon to get out the door. Harry leveled the wand at the nearest impostor.  
  
"RICTUSEMPRA!"  
  
The man fell to the floor laughing uncontrollably, and the other man turned as Harry yelled again.  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
The man didn't have enough time to cast his own counterspell, and flew backwards into Harry's dresser, falling to the floor, obviously out cold. The first man had gotten over his giggling fit and stood, aiming his want to the right of where Harry was standing. Harry grinned coldly and shouted another spell.  
  
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"  
  
The man's arms and legs snapped together, and he fell to the floor stiff as a board. Harry had a quick flash of memory back to second year when Hermione had used the very same spell on Neville. He pointed his wand at his trunk, with a quick locomotor trunk incantation, and ran from the room. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were all at the bottom of the stairs, eyes as wide as saucers.  
  
"Don't just stand there, run!"  
  
It didn't take telling them twice. They scurried over each other towards the front door. Just before Uncle Vernon got to it, it flew open, and a man in bright blue robes with a long white beard stepped within the house, his eyes ablase with anger. Harry stopped in his tracks, his trunk bumping into Dudley as the boy tried to get to his feet.  
  
"Dumbledore!" 


	3. St Mungo

Author's Notes - To everyone who's reviewed so far, thank you for your comments. I really didn't expect much of a reply at all, to be honest, so my ego just went through the roof. This one's for you guys. Vindicated I am selfish, I am wrong, I am right I swear I'm right, Swear I knew it all along And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself so clear.. -Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional  
  
"Dumbledore!" The aged wizard bright his wand up and flicked it once, and all of Harry's family disappeared from view. The blue eyes, which usually held a merry twinkle whatever might be happening, were now a fiery blue. Dumbledore's eyes fell upon Harry, a grim determination on his face. "Get them and go." Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked down to see three white mice on the floor, two rather large and one skinny. Remembering Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret , he scooped up the rodents and stuffed them into the pockets of his robes. "But Professor, where-" But Dumbledore's voice grew in volume for the first time since Harry had known him. "I SAID GO." The older wizard brushed past Harry and up the stairs, his footsteps unheard. Harry watched him turn into his room, then turned towards the doorway with a step, only to see a dark figure in the doorway. Before he could register who it was, a hand had grabbed him and pulled him from the house bodily. Harry's trunk, still under the locomotor spell, followed him out. "Dammit all, Potter, you cause us more trouble than you're worth at times." Harry's knees went weak as he realized Moody was the one manhandling him, dragging him along the sidewalk towards what appeared to be a waiting car. He had a memory of the gangster and mob movies he had watched from the stairwell into the living room, when they would stop a car or a van beside someone and pull the unsuspecting victim in. Moody opened the door with a swish of his wand and a muttered "alohamora", then uncerimoniously dumped Harry into the back seat. "Good Morning, Harry." Harry, now thoroughly confused, looked up to see the face of Arthur Weasley looking back at him from the driver's seat. The usually cheerful face was pale, and it seemed he had aged a decade in the three weeks since Harry had seen him at King's Cross. "Mr. Weasley, what..." Mr. Weasley raised a hand, quieting Harry. "Right now, all priority is getting you to Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore will take care of the Death Eaters. We've got to go." He paused for a moment. "Where...is your family?" In spite of the past five minutes, Harry grinned, and brought out the fattest white rat, who he assumed to be Dudley. "They're here, Mr. Weasley." The red-haired man grinned as well, nodding. "Well then, it's off to see the lizard, is it?" Harry would have laughed, but just as Arthur Weasley finished his statement, there was an explosion out of the window, and part of the wall, where Harry's room had been at Number 4, Privet Drive. Black smoke began to roil out of the new hole. Mr. Weasley turned back to the wheel as Alastor Moody got into the passenger seat beside him. "Yes, well, that would be our cue to leave." Moody's only reply was a growl, and the car sped off. Harry stared out the window until Number 4, Privet Drive was out of view. His childhood home was gone. And nothing could have wiped the smile off of his face. Two hours later, the car (A BMW, which Harry could not fathom in the least, how had the Weasley's afforded such a nice car?)pulled to a stop between Number 11 and Number 13 Grimmauld Place. "Remember the paper, Potter." Harry thought of what the slip of paper he had been given last year said, and slowly the house he had inherited from his Godfather materialized. Mr. Weasley pulled the car into the dilapidated garage. "Quickly, Harry, we must get inside. After what happened today..." "Stuff it, Arthur. Save it for inside." They didn't bother knocking at the front door, but barged in - Harry, Mr. Weasley, and Moody. In the foyer stood a sea of red-haired freckled faces - Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley. The latter pulled him into a hug, tears already falling from her eyes. Through her hug, Harry saw the face of Ron before he felt his best friend's arms around him as well. Harry struggled. "Geroff, geroff, Mrs. Weasley! There's more than just me in these robes!" Mrs. Weasley and Ron both backed away, and led the way to the Kitchen. None of the rest of the family nor Moody said a word, they merely sat at the kitchen table, staring at one another. Harry felt the three mice squirming around in his pockets. Moody spoke first. "Well, we got him in time. Just barely, by the look of it." Mrs. Weasley let out a wail, and put her face in her hands. "We could have lost him, it was almost too late, if we'd not gotten the warning from Figgy..." Mr. Weasley, looking a bit paler from his wife's words, reached an arm out and drew his wife into an embrace. "There, there, Molly, he's here, he's safe..." Harry was looking at each face individually. Fred and George seemed to be in mostly high spirits. Ron appeared as death warmed over, and Ginny's freckles looked almost brown from how pale she was. He cleared his throat. "So those were Death Eaters?" Moody grunted. "Aye, Potter. We got an owl from Mrs. Figg that two men in wizarding robes had been walking down Privet Drive for about half an hour. We drove down there, but by the time the car arrived, the Death Eaters had already gotten in the house. We heard you shouting while the car was sitting outside. I told Dumbledore you had it under control, but he would have none of it." Moody cleared his throat, and guestured to Harry's chest. "Why don't you let us meet the rest of the family, Potter?" Harry shifted, and brought out the three rats. He placed them on the floor, and Moody brought out his wand. "Finite Incantatem." Suddenly, Harry's Uncle, Aunt, and cousin were standing in Grimmauld Place. Uncle Vernon had a blood vessel throbbing on his forhead. His speech, however, was not as prominent. "How...why...what...right...rat..." Moody stood slowly, sizing up Vernon for the third time in two years. "Because it was the safest way to get you where we needed to go." Aunt Petunia stayed on the floor, rubbing her eyes. Dudley scrambled for the nearest corner, his hands on his buttocks. Uncle Vernon continued staring at Moody. "What right do you freaks have to turn me into a RODENT and pull my from my OWN HOUSE?" Harry, who felt quite queasy at the moment hearing his uncle screaming at Moody, and also becoming worried at the grin growing on the scarred face of the wizard, stood up quickly and stood between the two men. "Because if we hadn't, you would be dead right now." Vernon's fat face, already the shade of a ripe tomato, drained all color until he could have tied Nearly Headless Nick in a battle for Ghostliest Ghost. His hands came up to his tie, and smoothed out his jacket. Aunt Petunia stood slowly, but made no move towards the group of wizards staring at them. "That's right. Those people that you led into my ROOM were going to kill you as soon as they were done with me. So feel fucking lucky that Dumbledore showed when he did, or you wouldn't have this chance to thank Professor Moody and Mr. Weasley." Harry turned to his friends, his eyes falling on Ginny, then Ron. His brow furrowed a bit. "Where's Hermione?" Ron's eyes stared into Harry's for a moment, then moved to the table. His next words were choked out. "St. Mungo's. The Order didn't make it in time." The queasiness that had been building in Harry suddenly turned sevenfold, and he crumpled to the floor. He heard Mr. Weasley's voice saying "Get some water..." before the blackness overtook him and he knew no more. The trip to St. Mungo's didn't take long, and they walked through the window into the foyer. A gruff looking wizard took their wands and didn't give them back.  
  
"It's the new security measures after the Ministry was finally convinced of Voldemort's return. You'll get them back when you leave."  
  
Harry, who had never truly been without his wand except for his expulsion hearing last summer, was a bit nervous.  
  
"What if Voldemort attacks the hospital and nobody has their wands?"  
  
The security guard blanched at this. "I...I suppose the Healers still have their wands, and they know what they're doing, right? Besides, St. Mungo's un UnPlottable."  
  
Harry, still feeling queasy, simply nodded. He was still uneasy about having his wand taken from him, but he supposed it was the best idea.  
  
The receptionwitch motioned them to where Hermione's room was, tutting.  
  
"She doesn't look good. You might want to get up there soon."  
  
The eyes of Harry and Ron both widened considerably, and they left the rest of the group behind, except Ginny, who was almost right beside them. Several of the Healers and MediWitches scowled at them running through the corridors, but they paid no heed as they threw open the door to Hermione's private room and crowded in.  
  
There were three beds. The one on the right was empty. The bed in the middle held Mrs. Granger, who was apparently sleeping, covered in bandages that hid almost all of her body.  
  
The bed on the right held Hermione, who's bushy hair had lost it's curl and was starting to turn white, either from the scare during the attack or the potions the Healers were giving her. Harry, Ron, and Ginny moved to her bed first, where she was staring at the ceiling, apparently out of tune with the rest of the world.  
  
Harry picked up her right hand and clutched it in his own, looking down at her. "Hermione. Hermione? It's Harry. Wake up, Hermione."  
  
"She's got far too many potions in her to understand you, Mr. Potter."  
  
They turned to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway, his usual scowl gone and replaced by something that wasn't exactly compassion, but wasn't exactly loathing, either. He took a few steps forward to the end of Hermione's bed and picked up her medichart.  
  
"Ezran's Draught, Lightfellow's Oblivious Unction, Koressa Nightmar's Unfeeling Elixer....no, she will not awaken any time soon."  
  
Snape placed the medichart back upon the end of the bed, and folded his arms as the three friends looked back on the girl in the bed.  
  
"Professor...is there anything you can give her? To make her better?" Ginny's voice was cracking as she spoke, and she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.  
  
Snape's eyes betrayed him as they fell upon the little red-headed girl, and he blinked. "I can bring her back to consciousness, Ms. Weasley, but as for healing her, there are things even potions cannot do. The Healers still do not know what sort of spell she was hit with, even though her condition closely resembles the effect that Crucio had on the Longbottoms 16 years ago. But her condition continues to deteriorate. I can awaken her from this stupor, I believe, the stupor brought on by the potions but..."  
  
"Do it, Severus."  
  
Dumbledore walked into the room and stood to the left behind Professor Snape. The Potions Master nodded without turning and drew a small vial of vibrant blue potion from a pocket of his robes and uncorked it. Instead of placing it to Hermione's lips, he merely poured it on the girl's forhead, and it was absorbed quickly, not even spilling onto the pillow.  
  
Hermione's eyes closed, then opened again, and she gasped as her back arched from the bed. She stayed in that position for a moment before she crashed back down onto the sheets, and she twisted left and right, as though fighting off someone.  
  
"No! Not mum! Mum! NO!"  
  
Harry, who had lost his grip on her hand, grasped it again as Ron took her right.  
  
"Hermione! HERMIONE! It's us! It's Harry and Ron!"  
  
Hermione's flailing stopped for a moment, and she looked back and forth to Harry and Ron, then her back arched again and she cried out.  
  
"Professor!"  
  
"Be calm, Mr. Potter. This is a side effect of the potion. It will be over soon."  
  
Hermione flailed about a bit more, throwing her covers from her body, until she finally laid back in the bed and stared at Ron again.  
  
"R...Ron?"  
  
The redhead smiled, then collapsed into her chest, his sobs causing his whole body to shake. Harry let go of Hermione's left hand, and she placed it on Ron's head, running her fingers through his hair.  
  
"It's okay, Ron, I'm here."  
  
Harry took a step back, and bumped into Ginny, who was also crying. He felt a scrambling at his hand, and then her fingers intertwined in his as they both watched the two on the bed. Harry was fighting back his own tears.  
  
Ron stood, wiping his face of tears, still holding Hermione's hand. "Mione...are you alright?"  
  
Hermione's face fell, and she looked to Snape, and then to Dumbledore. Her own eyes began to well with tears as she spoke.  
  
"The spell that I was hit with in the Department of Mysteries...never got to finish healing, Ron. When they attacked....when they..."  
  
Her eyes widened, and then closed tightly as her hands moved to her abdomen, a short cry of pain coming from the bushy-haired brunette.  
  
Dumbledore stepped forward. "It is alright, Ms. Granger. It is over, you may relax."  
  
The aged wizard looked over his glasses to Snape, who nodded and drew another vial from his robes. The other three students looked at their Headmaster quizically.  
  
"Ginny, Ron, please come with me."  
  
Ron stood still for a moment, then looked back to Hermione. Her eyes had opened again, and she was looking at him, gripping his hand as though it were a lifeline. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, then moved out the doorway quickly before anyone could see his face.  
  
Harry felt Ginny let go of his hand, then heard Dumbledore mutter something before the door closed. Harry took Hermione's hand once more, looking to Professor Snape.  
  
"What..what is going on?"  
  
Snape didn't answer him, but merely moved to the other side of Hermione as he uncorked the vial.  
  
"Ms. Granger, you know what you have to do. It will hurt, but it will be all over soon."  
  
Hermione nodded, and looked to Harry.  
  
"If this doesn't work, Harry..."  
  
"If what doesn't work? What in the bloody hell is going on?"  
  
Hermione squeezed his hand, which calmed him a bit. "Harry...during our third year, with the Time-Turner...do you remember that?"  
  
Harry nodded, remembering how she seemed to appear at odd spaces and times when she shouldn't have been there, and the escape of Buckbeak and Sirius...  
  
Hermione smiled, but it was a faded smile, tinged with pain. "It wasn't just classes I was going to."  
  
She let go of Harry's hand, and closed her eyes. She cried out, her face squeezing together, but then suddenly on the bed sat a pheonix, fluffing its wings. It looked to Harry, and let loose a quavering note. Harry nodded, understanding.  
  
"It will be quick, Ms. Granger. A few sips should do it."  
  
The pheonix looked to Snape and nodded, then took a few drinks from the vial he proferred. She tipped her head back, letting the black liquid slide down her throat. She let loose one more quavering note, then suddenly flames enveloped her. They were gone as quickly as they had arrived, leaving only a small pile of soot and ashes on the bed.  
  
"Goodbye, Ms. Granger." 


End file.
